‘You think?’ The tall man eyed her. ‘I’ve learned that I can get into almost anywhere, as long as I have a winning smile and one of these.’ He produced a strange ceramic wand from his pocket. Like the shack, it had a blue light that glowed softly. ‘Lead on, Miss Forrest.’
SIX
THE DOCTOR GAVE the heavy iron lock on the front door a quick bzzt from this sonic screwdriver and they were inside. Martha beamed; but the moment they stepped into the rustic dining room-cum-kitchen, her cocky grin faded. The walls of the place were dominated by racks that held a cavalry sword, Apache tomahawks and repeating rifles, even a tiny pocket-sized derringer pistol in a glass case.
‘What kind of a person lives in a house like this?’ drawled the Doctor, half to himself.
‘General Custer?’ said Martha. ‘I’m detecting a bit of an aggressive motif here.’
Jenny stepped past the orange-yellow embers in the fireplace and called out. ‘Nathan? Nathan, are you there? It’s Miss Forrest. I’m here with Martha and her friend, the Doctor.’
The boy emerged on the landing above them and came down the stairs. ‘Miss Forrest?’ He looked chagrined. ‘I was going to come see you in the morning. Apologise for all the fuss, like.’
‘Never mind that,’ said the Doctor. ‘Windows can be fixed easily enough. How about you?’
Nathan hesitated. ‘I’m fine, sir. Just had me a turn, that’s all. My pa says I’ll sleep it off.’
‘But can you?’ The Doctor crossed to him, taking a careful look at the youth. ‘Can you sleep, Nathan?’
He looked away. ‘In all honesty, not as well as I’d like.’ He sighed. ‘My pa, he’s not a bad man, you know? He’s worried about me but he can’t say it outright. Ever since momma passed, he’s been lookin’ out for me. That’s why he got me the cure straight away.’
Martha felt a pang of sympathy for him. ‘How old are you?’
‘He’s 15,’ said Jenny.
‘Going on 16 this fall!’ the youth insisted. ‘I ain’t no kid, if that’s what you’re implyin’.’
‘Nathan.’ The Doctor gave him a steady look. ‘These dreams you have, the sickness. Martha and I think there’s a connection between them.’
‘My pa said I shouldn’t talk no more about it.’
‘You can talk to us,’ Jenny insisted. ‘We’re here to help you. This man is a doctor, a proper physician, not like that charlatan Godlove.’
‘Or close enough,’ admitted the Doctor. ‘Nathan, if you let me, I might be able to find a way to help you sleep again.’
The boy sighed, and for a moment he seemed like a scared child. ‘I’d sure like that.’
They sat opposite each other, the Doctor and the boy, across the kitchen table. Martha sat next to him and opened Nathan’s shirt, examining his chest, listening to his heartbeat while the Doctor entered a new setting on his sonic screwdriver.
‘What are you looking for?’ asked Jenny.
‘Scars,’ said Martha. ‘Lesions or pockmarks, damage to his lungs, anything that could show that he had smallpox. People who survive infection are always marked.’ She paused. ‘But there’s nothing here. He’s perfectly healthy, as if he was never sick. It’s almost—’ Martha gave the Doctor a loaded glance.
‘Like he’s been regenerated,’ he said. The Doctor turned to Nathan and spoke in a soft, kind voice. ‘I want you to listen to me,’ he told him, waving the sonic back and forth in front of the boy’s face, letting the glow of the blue light soothe him. ‘Just listen. Concentrate on my voice and the glow, nothing else.’
Nathan gave a sleepy nod.
‘Na-ru, na-ru, na-ru,’ hummed the Doctor, ‘na-ru-naru,’ The tune was lilting and unearthly, and gradually the boy relaxed. He went slack in the chair, his eyes distant, soothed by the hypnotic mantra.
‘What is that peculiar melody?’ whispered Jenny.
‘Venusian lullaby,’ the Doctor said, from the side of his mouth. After a moment, he felt silent and adjusted controls on the device. ‘Nathan? How are you feeling?’
‘Good,’ managed the youth.
‘I want you to tell me about the dreams. Tell me what you see.’
‘Scared,’ Nathan’s voice was thick and slow.
‘Don’t be,’ said Martha. ‘We’re all here. Me and the Doctor and Miss Forrest. There’s nothing to be frightened of.’
Jenny gave his hand a squeeze. ‘Go on, Nathan. Tell the Doctor what you dreamt.’
Nathan trembled. ‘War,’ he husked. ‘I dream war.’
The way the boy said it sent a chill down Martha’s spine. These were not the words of someone with an overactive imagination; somehow, Nathan could really see what he was describing.
‘A black sky, and it’s full of streaks, orange they are, like fire. Iron darts chasin’ each other, fast as an eagle. The moon’s real big up there, but it ain’t right. Too big, too red. A ring around it, shiny.’
‘Not Earth,’ said the Doctor in a low voice. He traced the sonic screwdriver over Nathan’s body as the boy continued.
‘The sounds are always the same. Cryin’ out, like lost souls. And cannons and lightning, lightning shootin’ from the guns. Stone cracking open . . .’
‘Tell us about the creatures,’ said Martha. ‘The men.’
Nathan shook his head slightly. ‘Walk like men, but they ain’t men. I seen birds big as steers. Dog-faced things and bundles of thorny sticks that walk an’ talk. Monsters like knights outta storybooks, all silver and faceless. Every one of ’em fighting, fighting against the guns. The lightning and the guns.’
The Doctor’s eyes narrowed as he studied his device. ‘There’s an energy trace in him, but very faint. It’s only become detectable since he started to dream.’
‘Is that a medical instrument of some kind?’ asked Jenny.
‘It’s a lot of things,’ Martha replied.
‘Nathan, come back now,’ said the Doctor, taking the youth’s pulse at his neck. ‘Wake up.’
The boy blinked and jerked in the chair. ‘Whoa. Pa?’
The Doctor shook his head, ‘No, your dad’s not here right now, but you did great. You were very brave.’
‘No,’ insisted Nathan, looking past him. ‘My pa . . .’
‘He’s not here,’ repeated Martha; and then she felt the cold metal of a gun barrel press against the back of her skull.
‘I beg to differ,’ said Sheriff Blaine in a tight, furious voice. He moved out of the shadows from behind her, his face red with anger. ‘What in the name of hell do you think you’re doing to my son?’
‘Ah,’ said the Doctor, glancing at Jenny. ‘Nathan, as in Nathan Blaine, would that be?’
The teacher gave a weak, sheepish smile. ‘Oh yes. I apologise. That detail slipped my mind. I’m so sorry.’
‘Not as sorry as I am,’ managed Martha, trying very hard not to move.
‘Pa, it ain’t what you think,’ began Nathan, but his father glared at the youth, silencing him.
‘Coming home and I saw the light in the kitchen,’ he growled, ‘and after all that’s been and gone I snuck myself in the back way. And lookie here what I find. You again, Doc.’ He pulled back the hammer on his pistol. ‘You got a breath or two to explain yourself, before I put down this pretty painted cat of yours!’
The Doctor held up his hands. ‘Wait, wait! Don’t do anything hasty!’
‘Hasty, now?’ said Blaine. ‘Breakin’ into a man’s property? For that alone I ought to sling you in the jail and let you rot there! And no judge would doubt me fair to put a bullet in you if I chose to!’
‘He’s trying to help your son, you stupid man!’ Jenny shouted suddenly. The normally well-spoken teacher’s outburst was a surprise to all of them.
‘I don’t mean any harm,’ said the Doctor.
Martha heard the emotions shifting in the man’s voice. ‘He’s all I got, you understand? I got no family left, nothing but the boy.’ She felt the pistol move away. ‘He’s my responsibility. I promised my wife I�
��d keep him safe. Do you know what that’s like, huh? Being the last one in your family, strugglin’ to keep it alive?’
‘Yes,’ replied the Doctor, with quiet, honest sadness. ‘I do.’
Martha turned and saw the look on Blaine’s face. His bluster and anger were gone, and he looked sombre and fearful. ‘We can help,’ she told him. ‘But you have to level with us. You must have seen what’s going on around here. The sickness and the dreams.’
‘It’ll pass,’ he insisted, but without real conviction. ‘It has to.’
‘I know what you’re trying to do,’ said the Doctor, ‘you’re just trying to keep the townspeople from being afraid. But there’s more to this than meets the eye. And I have to get to the bottom of it.’
The white flash came from nowhere, a brilliant blast of actinic light that flared through the windows of the house; a heartbeat later a crashing screech of sound rolled over them, with screams following in its wake.
‘Gunfire!’ cried Jenny, her hand flying to her mouth.
Blaine shook his head, his face creasing in concern. ‘That ain’t like no gun I ever heard!’ He scrambled towards the door, with Martha, the Doctor and the others following behind.
They came out into the street in time to witness a second blast of light and noise. Streets away, a plume of fire shot into the air, curling up into the evening sky. ‘What is that?’ said Martha.
‘The lightning!’ said Nathan. ‘The lightning has come!’
Blaine broke into a run, throwing a shout over his shoulder. ‘You stay here!’
Martha eyed the fire that was rapidly spreading across a far building. ‘Not bloody likely!’
‘Then just keep back!’ The Doctor pounded after the sheriff.
She followed him, rounding the corner onto Redwater’s main street. There were a handful of men, some with pistols and others with rifles, all of them in shocked silence. They had formed a ring around two riders on ragged-looking horses; and Martha’s stomach tightened when she caught the horribly familiar sickly sweet scent of seared human flesh. On the wind there was a faint noise, like the buzzing of flies.
There, lying before the horsemen, was a burned body in a smoking heap. She saw the huge pistols in the hands of the mounted riders and had no doubt who had killed the unfortunate soul.
‘The guns!’ Nathan hissed. ‘It’s them!’
‘Wait, sheriff!’ The Doctor grabbed him by the shoulder, but Blaine shrugged him off and kept running. ‘Fools rush in!’
Blaine ignored him and confronted the riders, holding his Colt revolver up to aim at them. ‘You two! Get outta the saddle right now, before I blow you out!’
Behind him, the Doctor skidded to a halt. His sonic screwdriver was buzzing, signalling him. Quickly, he drew out the device and twisted the control settings on its ceramic collar.
For the first time, the lawman got a good look at the two men and his eyes widened. ‘Can’t be . . . It’s not right.’
‘You know them?’ asked the Doctor.
Blaine frowned. ‘Hank Kutter and Will “Tangleleg” Bly . . . Had wanted posters up for ’em in my office for months now. But the word came down from the Marshal’s office on the telegraph. They’re both dead . . . The roadhouse they were hidin’ out in burned to the ground. Not a stick of it left!’
‘It would seem otherwise,’ said the Doctor. ‘Sheriff, I don’t think they’re what they seem . . .’
Blaine stepped away. ‘With all due respect, Doc, I’m the law in these parts, and I’ll deal with trouble my way!’ He advanced on the riders. ‘Last chance!’ he yelled. ‘Step down or else!’
The longriders exchanged a cold look, and then did as they were told. Kutter and Tangleleg ran their gaze over everyone in the street, townsfolk and armed men, women and children alike. The Doctor was certain that they lingered for a moment on him, on Martha and on the boy Nathan.
‘These highbinders been shooting up the place, sheriff!’ Loomis Teague called out, staring down a Winchester rifle at the two outlaws. He pointed the barrel of the gun at the smouldering corpse. ‘Killed Fess Logan like a dog in the street . . . Burned him, they did!’
‘Burned,’ repeated the Doctor.
‘You just earned yourselves a necktie party, boys,’ growled Blaine. ‘Now you can drop them there hog-legs and go quiet, or else take a bellyful of lead!’
The longriders made no sound, gave no sign they had even heard what the lawman said.
A few feet away, Martha and Jenny stood in the shadow of the general store’s awning, with Nathan between them. ‘I’ve never seen faces so pallid before,’ said the schoolteacher in a hushed whisper. ‘They’re so pale and sickly looking . . . If you saw a man like that by the side of the road, you’d think him a corpse!’
‘Maybe that’s what they are,’ Nathan murmured.
The Doctor glanced at his sonic screwdriver, distracted for a moment. ‘The same reading . . . But it’s older, somehow.’
Kutter turned his head to face Blaine and spoke. ‘Where is the healer?’ We know he was here. Where is he?’
‘The Doc?’ The sheriff shot a glance at the Doctor.
‘The healer,’ repeated Tangleleg. ‘Tell us where he is, or this won’t be the end to it.’ He gave a languid nod towards the dead body and the burning building.
‘He’s talking about Godlove,’ hissed Martha. ‘They’re after him!’
The sheriff’s fury was at its fullest. ‘I don’t know who or what you think you are, but I’m done talking.’ His gun came up.
‘Blaine, don’t!’ The Doctor called out a warning, but he was ignored. The lawman fired, and Teague and all the other men with guns did the same.
But Kutter and Tangleleg didn’t fall; they turned into blurs. Too fast for the eye to catch them, the longriders dodged out of the path of the gunfire. Some rounds seemed to rip into them, but they did nothing but spin them about. Blaine fanned the hammer on his Colt, but every shot he fired hissed through empty air.
And then the outlaws paid them back. Kutter flashed forward, striking down Teague with the butt of his heavy pistol, knocking him to the floor. Tangleleg lashed out with punches and the men who they connected with went flying, as if they’d been hit by a colossal impact. It all happened so fast, in instants.
‘Martha, look out!’ The Doctor’s cry came a second too late. Kutter slammed her aside and shoved Jenny away, coming to a sudden halt with his pistol at Nathan’s head.
‘No!’ shouted the lawman. ‘He’s just a boy!’
Martha got slowly to her feet, feeling the tension in her ribs from a spreading bruise. She saw the Doctor standing with Blaine in the middle of the dirt street, both men trying to keep the two longriders in their sight.
‘Stop this.’ The Doctor’s voice was level and firm, a great anger boiling away underneath his steady, iron-hard gaze. ‘I am asking you to stop this before it goes any further.’
Kutter studied him, his expression never changing. ‘The question remains. Where is the healer? You will tell me, or I kill the young one. Then these females.’
‘And then everyone in this settlement,’ added Tangleleg. ‘Until we have an answer. We will spare them if you answer.’
‘Papa?’ Nathan’s eyes pleaded with his father.
Finally, Blaine spat and glared at the townsfolk. ‘Put your guns down. Now!’ He tossed his pistol to the dirt and the others grudgingly followed suit. ‘OK,’ said the sheriff, holding up his hands. ‘I’ll tell you, just don’t hurt the boy. Godlove and his redskin, they rode out to the south, toward Dekkerville. That’s where he was headin’ . . . Now just let my son go.’
Martha saw the shift in the Doctor’s expression. She saw the look in his eyes and suddenly she knew what he’d seen. ‘They’re lying!’ The longriders had no intention of keeping their promise.
Kutter reacted, shoving Nathan aside. The massive pistol in his grip turned to face Blaine and it discharged with a thunderous shriek. A bolt of blazing white energy leapt from the
muzzle and speared the lawman through the middle of his chest, killing him instantly.
Nathan screamed, his voice rising into the chorus of yells and cries from the rest of the townsfolk as Tangleleg fired wildly into the buildings, seeding chaos and fire.
‘Why?’ bellowed the Doctor, as the boy rushed to his father’s side with Jenny at his heels. ‘Why did you do that?’ He snarled, his eyes flashing with towering rage, advancing towards the outlaw.
Kutter studied him. ‘You’re different,’ he noted. ‘Unlike.’
The Doctor’s was furious. ‘He told you what you wanted to know! You didn’t have to kill him!’
For a long second Kutter held the gun towards the Doctor, and Martha gasped, terrified the longrider would shoot him down as well. ‘He would have come after us,’ the gunman said, in a flat, matter-of-fact voice. ‘Examples must be made.’
The pistol dipped, the aim falling toward Nathan.
‘No!’ The Doctor threw up his hands.
Martha saw it happen. She felt the sickening lurch in the pit of her stomach as the weapon fired. The bolt struck out, dazzling her.
Jenny saw it too; and she threw herself at the boy, forcing him to the dirt as Kutter pulled the trigger. The shot went wide, missing the boy and striking the teacher.
The woman’s scream filled the night air as the blast of energy tore into her.
SEVEN
THE TARDIS DOORS slammed open and the Doctor raced inside with Jenny’s unconscious body in his arms.
Martha came in, pulling the doors shut behind her. In the confusion and chaos following the gunfight, it had been easy to slip away down the alley; she felt terrible leaving poor Nathan out there, with only his father’s corpse for company, but the sheriff was beyond her help. Jenny Forrest, on the other hand, was still clinging to life, and Martha had a duty to do whatever she could to save her.
‘Get the medical kit, white box with a green crescent moon on it,’ snapped the Doctor, laying the teacher down gently on the gridded decking of the control room. ‘Quick, quick, quick!’
Martha raced across the chamber and found the medical kit sitting on top of a woman’s jacket. Inside the plastic box were dozens of vials of fluid and a green, jelly-like pod that pulsated as if it were alive.
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